


It Takes a Soft Touch

by scullyphile



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cleaning, Dishes, F/M, Fluff, household chores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullyphile/pseuds/scullyphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully is trying to do the dishes. Mulder has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes a Soft Touch

“That was delicious. I’m going to powder my nose,” Mulder said, wiping his face with his napkin and pushing his empty plate away. “Don’t go anywhere.”

On his way to the bathroom, he grabbed his razor from his overnight bag. Staying over at Scully’s apartment was new and exciting and domestic. Everything she owned was softer than the equivalent item in his apartment: hand towels, sheets, pajamas, even potholders. He imagined her standing in a department store absently touching every fabric until she came upon the softest one. Only the most texturally pleasing items made it into Scully’s home.

Mulder studied his face in the mirror for a moment before lathering it with shaving cream, attempting to see himself the way Scully did. He knew it was an impossible task. All he could see was the mirror image of his features, not his features at they looked to her. When they stood in front of a mirror together, he marveled at how different being reversed made her look, although no less beautiful.

When he finished shaving, he toweled off with the softest towel in existence and padded to the kitchen in his stocking feet. Scully stood at the sink, washing the dishes. Walking up to her from the side, he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his soft cheek against hers.

“Those can wait until later,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“I’m almost done with them now,” she responded, smiling. “Did you just shave at 8:30 at night?”

“Maaaybe,” he crooned, kissing her behind the ear.

It seemed he was getting through to her. She dropped the dirty plate back into the dish water and closed her eyes. He lifted the bottom of her shirt and ran his hand up her stomach to her ribs, sliding his thumb under the edge of her bra, barely touching the smooth underside of her breast.

Water splattered on the floor at their feet as she unknowingly wrung out the sponge she was holding. She twisted around to face him and her foot slipped in the puddle.

“Whoa,” he said, catching her by her lower back in a movement that resembled a dip. Her face showed panic in the moment before she felt his hand, and her hand flew up to his neck. It would have been more romantic if she hadn’t still been holding the sponge. There was a wet slap on his neck, and warm, soapy water trickled down his shirt.

“Whoops,” she exclaimed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much wine at dinner.”

“You’ve clearly had too much,” he declared and picked her up before she could protest.

Now that his face was soft and smooth he could explore every part of her without hesitation. There was no more time to waste. He’d wasted too much already.


End file.
